


Terms and Conditions Do Not Apply

by pprfaith



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Adorableness and Fluff and I don't even know, Aged-Up Character, Alternate Universe, Canon-Typical Fucked-upness, Child Malia, Emotionally Stunted Everyone, F/M, Families of Choice, M/M, Minor Character Death, Morally Ambiguous Peter, Morally Ambiguous Stiles Stilinski, Murder, Peter loves Malia, Peter raises Malia, Sorry Not Sorry, Unplanned Pregnancy, Violence, attempted child murder, okay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-15
Updated: 2017-07-15
Packaged: 2018-12-02 14:19:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11511174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pprfaith/pseuds/pprfaith
Summary: Peter didn't plan on Malia.He also didn't plan on Stiles.And yet, here they are. It's a mess.





	Terms and Conditions Do Not Apply

**Author's Note:**

> Around Christmas, someone I follow on tumblr posted a prompt that inspired me to write this. I have no clue who it was or what the prompt even was or when I wrote this, but there it is. And I sort of like it, so.

+

Peter is twenty-five when he meets Corinne. He’s got a sparkly new degree in his pocket, blood on his hands and an ego that could throw the moon out of its orbit with its sheer size. 

Corinne is dangerous and flattering in turns, compliments his murder technique and pisses off Talia. She laughs at his too sharp jokes and doesn’t care that his morals are tissue thin and see-through in places.

She’s deadlier than him and stronger and she wants him. 

Peter, for all that he’s been his sister’s enforcer since he was sixteen, for all that he’s been around the block more than once during college, has never been _wanted_ before. 

It’s a heady feeling. 

So of course he fucks her. 

For six glorious months it’s just him and her and fangs and claws and ripped-up sheets. It’s amazing. It feels like he imagines heroin feels to humans.

And then she’s pregnant. 

+

His first thought is a resounding no. 

His second is something else entirely. 

Because there is something growing inside of Corinne that’s half him. Something that is part of him, something that will belong to him. Something that will love him, if only because he’s the thing keeping it alive.

And suddenly, he wants that baby. 

They come to an agreement. She’ll pop the kid out, he’ll raise it, they’ll still be what they’ve been for the past half year, which is not lovers, not precisely, but more than fuck buddies. 

Sounds like a plan. 

Of course it doesn’t work that way.

+

The thing about Peter is, that he’s not good with love because he doesn’t really understand it. 

His parents’ love for him was always dependent on good grades and good behavior. 

Talia’s love fluctuates with how useful he is to her at any given moment and how annoying.

Laura and Derek’s love is defined by what he can do for them, as the cool uncle. 

Cora’s and the other babies’ love is probably the closest he knows to love just for the sake of it. They don’t gain anything from him, not yet, but they also tend to forget about him when he’s not there, so they don’t count. 

All his life, the love Peter has been given has had terms and conditions attached to it. His own love is based on loyalty. He loved those that are loyal to him, that stand by him. Betray him and you’re dead. 

It’s a safe kind of love, a calculated one. 

It’s currency more than emotion, really.

It’s in no way enough to prepare him for what happens the first time he holds his daughter in his arms. 

Because one look at Malia, a single look at her scrunched up, tiny, angry face, and he knows no terms and conditions will ever apply to her. He is going to love his daughter not matter what she does and who she becomes. She could aim a gun full of wolfsbane at him and pull the trigger and he would still, with his last breath, love her. 

She’s his. His daughter, his pack, his Malia. 

His.

It’s a problem.

+

It’s a really big problem, because on her first full moon, Malia turns into a tiny little ball of fur in her crib and Corinne, watching over her, suddenly shifts uncontrollably, unable to hold on to one form. 

The glow of her eyes flickers like a faulty lightbulb and Malia – Malia is shifting between forms in her crib to the beat of her mother’s loss of control. 

It takes them about half an hour to figure out what is happening. Somehow, Malia is stealing her mother’s power. 

Upon figuring that out, Corinne sits very still for a long, long moment. 

Then she lunges for the crib.

+

By morning, Malia’s eyes still glow gold and her mother’s blood paints the nursery. 

Peter mourns Corinne’s death, but only because it means his baby girl will grow up without a mother.

+

Malia is a strange kid. Thanks to the powers she inherited from Corinne, she doesn’t grow into the shift like werewolves do. Instead, Malia can’t remember ever being without the coyote.

As a result, she’s sometimes more animal than child. 

It also seems like the shift is the only thing she inherited from Corinne. The rest of her is all Peter, sharp, clever, ruthless and demanding. 

Laura dubs her Mini Peter when Malia’s four. Malia retaliates by calling her ‘mommy’ in front of her new boyfriend a day later.

Laura screeches her outrage and Peter gives her an extra cookie for being such a brilliant, clever little devil.

He and his daughter, they’re a pack all their own, a tiny two-man pack inside the bigger Hale pack, the coyote and the blunt instrument. It makes them outsiders, sometimes, but neither Peter nor Malia would have it any differently. 

Because Peter loves his daughter absolutely and unconditionally and Malia inherited that from him, too. She has her tiny claws so deep inside of him, he doesn’t think either of them would survive removing them. 

+

Maybe that’s why Stiles is such a surprise.

He’s a fully trained spark, powerful enough to make Peter’s nose itch with the scent of it, and he’s supposed to learn an emissary’s duties under Deaton. 

The first time Peter meets the college-age boy is when he goes to Deaton for help with a troll problem at the north end of the preserve. He’s been up for thirty hours, hunting those fuckers, his daughter keeps sending him increasingly angry texts about how she is going to gut Derek if he doesn’t pick her up soon, Talia is hounding him about not managing to do a three person job on his own and he is done. 

So done. 

Which is the only reason he’s willing to try Deaton at all. The cryptic asshole is a last resort only and Peter would rather pull out his claws with pliers than be here, but needs must. 

Lia wants home, so Peter had better hurry up. 

The kid hangs back in the far corner of the office, listening to Deaton offer absolutely nothing useful. Some advice Peter already knows, a few choice lines about violence not being a solution, and some ‘the universe will guide you’ bullshit on top of it. 

Deaton doesn’t like Peter any more than Peter likes Deaton, but this is a new pinnacle of willful fucking uselessness. 

The boy seems to agree, because after a few minutes, he snorts loudly, shakes his head and asks, “I thought an emissary was supposed to _help_ his pack? Did I miss a page in the handbook? How the fuck is that going to help him kill a pissed-off troll family?”

Deaton opens his mouth to answer, but gets waved off. “You know what, save it. If this is what you do, then keep doing it. I’m out of here.” He turns to Peter, holds up one finger. “Give me five to grab my shit and I’ll come with you. I have some goodies that should knock out, or at least disorient a bunch of trolls.”

+

It takes them five more hours to track and kill the entire troll family. By the end of it, the kid – Stiles – is punch drunk from magical exhaustion and leaning on Peter like they’re old friends. 

Peter is nursing a broken arm and still has the taste of troll in his mouth when Stiles says, “Well, that was fun. How do you feel about ice-cream? Right now, I mean? I could totally go for the biggest, I mean _biggest_ freaking sundae ever right now.” He spreads his hands a shoulder-width. “Big as my head. At least. Dude, so freaking big.”

Peter would love to have ice-cream with the strange spark, which is surprising, but, “My daughter is waiting for me.”

Stiles shrugs. “So we pick her up and take her with us. Unless you’re one of those weird parents who don’t allow candy after,” he checks his watch, realizes it got broken during the fight, shrugs, “whatever the hell time it is.” Then he takes another look at his arm, then his chest and finally Peter. “Although we should probably change first. A shower might not be a luxury, either. Who knew troll blood is so….”

“Gelatinous?” Peter suggests.

“I was going to go with snot-like,” Stiles comments, “But that works. So, ice-cream?”

Ice-cream.

+

After that, Stiles is just there.

He goes back to Deaton eventually, even if only to be able to claim he did the six months of required training. 

He and Peter have lunch a few times and then dinner and then Peter invites him over to cook for him and it snowballs from there. 

Malia is cool with it as long as Stiles doesn’t take up more of her father’s time than she deems his due. She actually kind of adores the man. He’s older than her by twelve years, which leaves him in the same position Peter was in for so long with Laura and Derek. Older, but not too old to be cool. 

He’s also willing to do all kinds of magic tricks for her, trash talk shitty martial arts movies with her and help prank Laura. 

Then she catches Peter and Stiles kissing in the kitchen one evening and from then on, it’s war. 

+

It’s not like Peter planned on Stiles. 

Is completely blindsided by him, as a matter of fact. Because all of Peter’s love-interests – for a given value of ‘love’ – have been like Corinne. Convenient partnerships with amazing fringe benefits. 

And Stiles, Stiles isn’t even Peter’s type. 

He’s loud, spastic, annoying, flirts like he’s doing it wrong intentionally and has absolutely no mind for subtlety or subterfuge. He’s a sledgehammer to the face, every single time. 

But he’s also smart enough to be dangerous, powerful, gorgeous and ruthless enough with all of those assets to make even Peter think twice about crossing him. A sledgehammer to the face might not be subtle, but it’s still a goddamn sledgehammer to the face. 

When Malia declares war, Peter intends to do what he always does when his baby girl gets tired of his lovers. Send Stiles packing. But somehow, someway, he finds himself unable to. Because Stiles _matters_ in a way the others never have. 

Stiles… Stiles adores Peter and he adores Malia and there are no terms and conditions affixed to it. He’s loyal, he’s fierce and Peter knows that Stiles knows Malia comes first. Knows that, if it came down to it, Stiles would to anything to protect Lia, because he loves her, too. 

The first time Peter cancels a date because of Malia, Stiles just shrugs and says, “Sure, dude, I get it,” and he actually means it. The next time they plan to go out for dinner, Stiles shows up in jeans and a ratty t-shirt instead of date clothes and they go paintballing with Lia before binging on Burger King and falling asleep in a pile on the couch.

There isn’t even any sex involved, Peter’s left leg goes numb from where Stiles is half lying on it, and he hates Burger King and has his daughter’s hair in his mouth, but it’s the best date Peter can remember having.

Which is a problem, because suddenly, there are two people he cares about and they are pulling in opposite directions. 

+

For the first time since Malia was born, he tries to compromise with her. If she lets him go out with Stiles tonight, he’ll spend all of tomorrow terrifying zoo animals with her. If she gets through dinner without throwing a fit, she can try to prank Stiles later. If she doesn’t try to claw his throat out, she gets to stay up as long as she likes. 

If she lets him have Stiles, he’ll let her have anything else. 

He’s not proud of it, but he’s desperate.

It doesn’t work.

None of it. The more Peter gets attached to Stiles, the more Malia seems determined to hate him, possibly with a side of murder. 

Stiles is surprisingly good about it. Or maybe it’s not surprising at all, because he’s always been willing to include Malia, from the very first post battle ice-cream.

The tantrums, the snarls and fangs and claws, the canceled plans, the ruined evenings. He takes it all with a look in his eyes like he knows. 

Knows that Peter is about to give in and let Lia win because she’s his. She’s his and anything sehe wants she gets. 

Even if it’ll break his heart.

Stiles looks at Peter like he knows that. Like he’s okay with it, because he knows that’s how it has to be.

+

The weekend spent together is a last ditch effort. 

Or maybe it’s just Peter indulging his inner masochist. 

The three of them, together, for an entire weekend, in the cabin the Hales use for new wolves. Away from everything and everyone. 

The first evening Lia almost sets Stiles on fire. 

The second she throws a fit so loud, the surrounding woods stay eerily silent for hours afterwards. 

On Sunday morning, Peter knows what he has to do. End it, drive Stiles back to town, and try to forget he ever existed. He’s almost done with his training anyway, he’ll leave, go back to college, find a pack somewhere else, be happy and forget the older, fucked-up single father he dated for half a year, once.

Peter showers, gets dressed and is about to open the kitchen door, when he hears Stiles say, “Malia don’t!”

A second later, something bangs and smashes and Lia snarls, “Don’t tell me what to do! You’re not my dad! Or my mom!”

He’s a heartbeat away from going in there and doing… something, when Stiles makes a thoughtful noise. 

Something is put down on the counter, gentler than the banging before, and then the spark says, very carefully, “I’m not trying to be, Lia. I couldn’t ever take your dad’s place, because he’s right here, and I don’t even want to replace your mom.”

Malia snorts, fully aware of why her mother is dead. It’s hard keeping secrets from a child that can tell when you’re lying.

“And if that’s what you think I’m doing, then I guess I can understand why you’ve been such a monster,” Stiles goes on, dry as the desert. The kid has literally tried to set him on fire less than twenty-four hours ago, and he doesn’t even sound angry, just wryly amused. He fits in with them far too well. “But,” and here his voice suddenly goes a lot harder than Peter’s ever heard it at home, away from bloodshed and murder. “You have to stop because we’re pack, all three of us. You, me, your dad, and you’re hurting him by trying to make him choose between us. Pack doesn’t do that.”

Pack?

All three of them?

Peter’s thought it before, but he never knew that Stiles thought about it, too. That it’s something he wants. That – 

“Pack?”

A snort. “Of course, kiddo. Why else do you think I’ve been putting up with you clawing up everything I own as soon as I leave the room?”

She does _what_?

“Pack?” she asks again, either to avoid answering or because she’s honestly stuck. She’s brilliant, but she’s only eight. 

“Pack. You’re mine, your dad’s mine. I’m not your parent and I’m not trying to be, but we are pack. Savvy?”

She growls. And if Peter knows his kid at all, there’s eyes and fangs involved, too.

“You didn’t use to have a problem with me. What changed?”

There’s a long silence, during which Peter rests his head against the wooden door and listens so hard, he might strain something. 

“You thought I was going to take him away, didn’t you?”

Peter can’t see his daughter’s reaction, but he can smell the salt of her tears and he can hear the rustle of clothes as Stiles picks her up and hugs her close. “I never would,” he tells her, softly, gently. “Pack doesn’t make pack go away.”

Lia sobs. 

Peter painfully detaches his hand from the doorknob and walks away, back to the bedroom. This moment doesn’t belong to him. 

+

An hour later, he’s served breakfast in bed, complete with a water glass full of mashed flowers. Malia’s still got green under her nails where she ripped the flowers out with too much force. 

“What, are you two suddenly getting along?” Peter asks when Stiles climbs into bed to sit next to Peter and Malia throws herself over their legs like a particularly mouthy blanket. 

The look Stiles sends him states clearly that he wasn’t as quiet as he thought he was, coming down the stairs earlier.

But Lia hasn’t quite gotten the hang of her senses yet, can either hear everything or ignore everything. So she doesn’t know Peter listened in on their conversation. 

She just grins up at him with a mouthful of too pointy teeth and informs him, “We’re pack!”

+

Peter isn’t really good with love, but Malia doesn’t know any better and Stiles doesn’t care. 

It’s enough. Somehow, between the three of them, it’s enough.

+

**Author's Note:**

> Come tumble with me [here](http://www.wordsformurder.tumblr.com/).


End file.
